Nightmares
by WeatherWriter
Summary: Set after my first fic, "He Looks so Young." Mike talks to a sketch artist, then has nightmares about it.


Thanks so much for the reviews/favorites/follows! They are a great confidence boost! It was suggested that I write a second story, so here it is. Also, please visit my profile for an announcement.

This is written in Ryan's point of view.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.

I didn't sleep much that night. There was just too much on my mind. I know Mike doesn't blame me for what happened, but I still can't shake off the guilt. I decided to take the day off and let Parker handle the case. I want to make sure Mike has someone with him today. He's going to need support when the sketch artist comes in.

I arrive at the hospital. I take a deep breath, and pull myself together before going into Mike's room. I don't want him to get the feeling that I was up all night. I walk into his room, and he is awake.

"How are you feeling?" I ask.

"Like I got hit by bus," he replies.

"Well, you look better than you did yesterday," I tell him.

Truthfully, he doesn't look any better. He has a black eye, dried blood on his face, a gauze-covered gash on his forehead, and a tube in his nose. Not to mention the tiresome look in his eyes. He doesn't look like the Mike Weston that I know.

"I heard that a sketch artist is coming in today," Mike says.

"Yes. She should be coming in sometime soon," I tell him. "That's one of the reasons I took today off."

"That means a lot, Ryan. I'm glad I don't have to do this alone."

I gently squeeze Mike's shoulder. He gives me a half-smile.

I hear footsteps coming toward the room. The expression on Mike's face changes. He looks fearful. I turn around, and see a young woman walking into the room.

"Hello, I'm Hillary," she says. "I'm the sketch artist."

"Hi," Mike quietly says.

"Are you up for giving me some details?" she asks.

Mike nods his head. I can tell he doesn't really want to talk to the sketch artist.

"We know what Charlie and Louise look like, but we need the details on Roderick," she explains to Mike. "Take all the time you need to explain."

Mike takes a deep breath. I put my hand on his shoulder as he gives Hillary the details. Hillary is very patient with him. The whole process goes better than I thought. Mike held himself together very well.

"How does this look?" Hillary asks Mike as she shows him what she has drawn.

"That is a very close resemblance," he tells her.

He cringes at seeing the sketch. I take a mental snapshot of the sketch.

"Thank you, Mike," Hillary says. "I know that wasn't easy, but you did well."

"I hope you guys find him," he says.

"We will," I reassure him.

"I'm going to take this down to the station right now," Hillary says.

"Thank you," I tell her.

Hillary walks out of the room. Mike takes another deep breath. He looks at the ceiling.

"Hey, you did great," I tell him.

"I wouldn't have been able to do it without you. Thanks for coming today."

"No problem. I knew this wouldn't be easy, so I wanted to offer my support."

Mike gives me another half-smile. That makes me feel better. Whenever Mike needs me, I am going to be there for him.

"You don't have to stay here if you don't want to," Mike tells me.

"I want to. I took today off so I could be here with you."

"That means a lot, Ryan. Thanks."

Mike still has a tiresome look on his face. I can also hear it in his voice that he is tired.

"You can take a nap if you're tired," I tell him. I'm going to get lunch in the cafeteria, and then I'll be back up."

"Ok, I'll see you in a little bit."

Mike closes his eyes. I quietly walk out of his room and down to the cafeteria. I eat my lunch rather quickly so I can be there when he wakes up again. I walk back into his room. He is still asleep. I sit down, and begin to doze off myself.

I am awakened by Mike stirring in his sleep. He groans and twitches at first. His breathing becomes rapid.

"No! No!" he cries.

He moves his hand toward his wound. I quickly get up out of the chair, and stop him from touching his wound.

"Mike, wake up! Wake up!"

Mike wakes up. He looks at me with wide eyes. I hover over him, putting my hands on both of his shoulders.

"Calm down, buddy. It was just a dream," I tell him, trying to keep a calm tone in my voice.

"She was going to slit my throat," Mike choked out.

"It was just a dream," I tell him again. "No one is going to hurt you."

I keep my hands on Mike's shoulders until his breathing slows down. As soon as he is calm again, I sit back down, moving the chair closer to his bed.

We sit in silence for a while.

"It felt so real," he told me, breaking the silence.

"I know," I reply. "But it's over and done with. You are safe, now."

I can tell that Mike is still shaken. His eyes are watery, and he shits position uncomfortably.

"Hey, you're going to be alright," I reassure him.

I stand up and move closer to him. I gently wrap my arms around his shoulders. He rests his head on my shoulder, and takes a deep breath. I tighten my grip on him a little, careful not to cause him any discomfort. I hold him like that for a few minutes. Then his grip relaxes and his breathing changes. He has fallen asleep. I gently lower him back onto the bed. I quietly sit back down. I keep my eyes on him. He is going to be alright. Nothing else is going to happen to him. Not on my watch.

Thoughts? I definitely plan on writing more. I might try to write something in Mike's point of view. If you have any ideas, feel free to PM me. I hope you enjoyed it.


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